


Princess Diaries

by GordandV



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Blatant Disregard for Accurate Royal Hierarchy, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GordandV/pseuds/GordandV
Summary: “You were uprooted from your life and moved to another country; we didn’t think adding in marriage would do you or anyone else any favors.”Prince Kal-El has just returned to his home country of Krypton to take up his crown. However being royalty isn't his only new struggle as he learns he must marry, and soon. The solution? One eligible bachelor Duke Bruce Wayne of Gotham.A Princess Diaries AU
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119





	1. 6 Months to Find a Spouse

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen either of the Princess Diaries movies in years but one night right during the early days of quarantine I just started writing this. There are some direct-from-movie dialogue scenes which were a delight to reply over and over again. I struggled with how to handle the Queen and did some pick-and-choose. I actually did a lot of pick-and-choose and had a blast.

“Prince Kal-El, honestly, how many times do we have to go over this? How many? You are not in Smallville anymore, there are certain expectations that come with your position and playing stable hand is not one of them.”

John tries not to let too much exasperation bleed into his voice, but his admittedly long patience is finally wearing thin. It’s been about six months since Crown Prince Kal-El returned home to Kyrpton and some days it seems like he’s made no progress to transition into his new life. Weeks ago John would be more understanding because he could only imagine what it would be like to go from simple Kansas farm boy to royalty. He and the whole world knew it would take some time for Kal-El to find his footing, to take to the lessons and education that his post demanded. Everyone knew he knew next to nothing about his people’s culture, their history, their way of life, that it would take time to acclimate.

The young man in jeans and a plaid shirt standing in the stall to one of the carriage horses looks like the first few weeks of Kal-El’s arrival when he would seek out any sort of connection to his old life. There’s visible dirt under his nails and up his wrists, not to mention the hay and who knows what staining the prince’s jeans that suggest he’s been there for a while. The only saving grace for John is that Kal-El visibly shrinks under John’s gaze, shoulders crawling to his ears as his back hunches over. He looks guilty as he looks away then back at John. Not for the first time John thinks to how much he looks like the late Jor-El, especially those bright blue eyes that the House of El is famous for.

“Call me Clark,” Kal-El mumbles, “And I just wanted to help.”

“Clark,” John starts, feeling every bit of training from the Green Lantern Corps. Royal Security wail at him for lack of any title, but Kal-El always seems more receptive if he gets called by his favored Kansas name. “I know you want to help, I do, but you can’t just _do_ this.”

If it’s not cleaning stalls or grooming horses then it’s finding the prince trying to help with laundry or in the kitchens or with any sort of cleaning supply. John knows that Krypton is blessed with Kal-El, that he is genuinely a good person who, in time, will lead the country well. But for all that good John among others just wish the future king wouldn’t try to be to so helpful.

“I know.” Kal-El sounds sorry, he does, but John’s patience has been run thin. This is far from the first or fifth or even fifteenth time he’s caught Kal-El doing jobs that anyone could be hired to do. It’s not like the palace is short-staffed: if anything they’ve hired even more people to make sure daily operations and tasks were handled efficiently.

“Do you?” John asks, watching Kal-El flinch a bit and lean onto the shovel. “I’ve told you a hundred times you can’t just do whatever you want. You’re the crown prince, you are expected to behave a certain way and mucking stalls is not one of them.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” Kal-El says in a rush. “But-” There’s always a but. “-But I had to see Metropolis. Just for a little bit.”

John sighs and allows himself the indignity of running his hand over his face. “If you want to spend time with Metropolis, all you have to do is ask and we can set something up.”

For whatever reason, Kal-El has been taken with the silvery draft horse. The first month he’d spent a number of nights in the stables saying it felt like home, and back then when it was clear he was overwhelmed and homesick people had let him. But then time passed, a few shots made it out onto the gossip rags, and people wondered what type of prince slept with the horses or in a hay bale. Soon after that Kal-El’s nights were curbed to none.

“I don’t want to just stare at her, I want to be with her, care for her a little bit.”

John’s other hands joins his face. “We have an entire team of staff for just the stable: groomers, vets, farriers, trainers. It’s their job to take care of her, not yours.”

“I grew up on a farm, it was my job all my life,” Kal-El says back, longing clear in his voice. “I just wanted a little bit of that again, for a little while.” He reaches up and rubs one cheek with his knuckles, smearing more dirt across his face as the accent that was carefully being trained out of him comes back. “Can’t I just finish up then go? I won’t be more than ten minutes, I swear.”

It’s a charming accent, one that John knows gets thicker the more upset or relaxed Kal-El is. 

“Clark, I-”

There’s a sniffle as Kal-El ducks his face into his elbow while his voice cracks. “Please?”

“What’s wrong?” John asks, immediately on alert as he opens the stall door to get inside. Kal-El shakes his head a bit but sinks into John as the man puts an arm around him. Metropolis, who hasn’t moved, whickers lowly as Kal-El begins to sob. John holds him tight and ignores his training that says it is inappropriate to be in such physical contact with his charge.

“Clark? What’s really wrong? Why’re you upset?”

Kal-El eventually turns his head enough to croak out, “I miss my Ma, so much, John.”

“Oh Clark, why didn’t you say so?” That only gets a shrug before Kal-El hides his face and cries openly, without shame. John reaches up to his ever-present earpiece.

“GL1 to GL2, are you with Flamebird?”

“GL2 here, confirming.”

“Small situation with Nightwing, requesting Flamebird be ready to open her nest.”

“GL2 confirming, we’ll be ready.”

* * *

Kal-El slumps into his chair and no one bothers to correct him on the posture. He looks like he’s just been sucker-punched and Martha Lor-Van sympathizes with him. As Queen of Krypton she remembers the day when she was told she would be marrying in the House of El, how stoic she held herself. For a number of years she knew it was coming though; as Kal-El’s grandmother her heart goes out to the young man whose world has suddenly flipped on him for the second time in a year.

“Clark?” she says as her grandson visibly pales, her hands clenching on the arms of her chair. He weaves a bit, looking somewhat dazed, and she thinks for a second he might actually pass out. Her concern is obviously shared when John’s protégé Hal Jordan moves forward to put a gentle hand against Kal-El’s shoulder. Despite a somewhat combative and impulsive personality he’s proven himself on various occasions; there’s little doubt he’ll one day take John’s position when John does retire.

“Ok, Big Blue?”

The room, already dead silent, breathes a collective sigh of relief when, after a couple more seconds, Kal-El nods a bit as he sinks down a few more inches. “Yeah.”

Hal’s hand squeezes briefly and Martha is glad that Hal is a bite off of John’s block. While the two are professionals, the tops of their field, they are human. They know when the line between professional and personal needs to be crossed, even if it’s just a secret eye roll or gentle touch of shoulders.

“Want something to drink?” Hal asks as John approaches, already cracking the top of a water bottle. He passes it down to Hal who helps Kal-El hold it as he shakily drinks.

“Thank you,” murmurs Kal-El who dabs over his mouth before he looks at Martha. “You didn’t tell me.”

“It was agreed to keep this quiet for as long as we could,” Martha explains. “You were uprooted from your life and moved to another country; we didn’t think adding in marriage would do you or anyone else any favors.”

“Or you could have told me and I could have adjusted to the idea a year ago along with everything else,” Kal-El bites back in a rare show of anger. His cheeks regain color in temper spots as his voice raises. “Now you tell me I have 6 months to find and get a spouse because if I don’t marry by my 22nd birthday someone else is going to be able to claim the throne! You could have told me this a year ago!”

“I understand your anger, Clark, and I’m sorry you feel that way. In the end it was my decision and I thought it would be easier on you,” says Martha softly yet firmly. Kal-El looks downright betrayed as he glares at her while Hal wisely moves away. “I just wanted to protect you.”

The prince huffs as he leans his head back and sighs. For almost a minute all he does is breathe before tears finally escape. Instead of trying to wipe or hide them away Kal-El merely inhales, holds it, then releases without shifting his position. His voice is cold. “Who am I marrying?”

“That, Clark, is eventually going to be up to you. There’ll be a list of potential suitors, but I think we can leave that for another day.”

Martha slips off her chair and kneels in front of Kal-El who desperately looks like he wants to stay mad before cracking. He reaches out to his grandmother who hugs him tightly and rubs his back. Hal and John quietly leave the room, though the doors remain cracked op.

“Holy shit,” Hal hisses to John who positions himself to keep the two in his eye line without actually being able to hear them as Kal-El gets onto the floor and sobs against the queen. “Did you know?”

“I’ve known since it was announced that Kal-El was Prince of Krypton. No ruler has ever ascended the throne without a spouse.”

“No, I mean did you know that this meeting was going to turn into surprise, you have to get hitched within 6 months?” Hal clarifies. “I was told that this meeting could get, and I quote, ‘volatile’ and to be prepared but I thought it would be…not this.”

John just lifts an eyebrow at Hal who huffs a bit.

“Whatever. I just hope Big Blue doesn’t marry a dick. I like this kid, he deserves someone nice.”

“You do realize we’re still on the clock, don’t you?”

“Duh, that’s why I’m telling you this.”

* * *

“Popcorn, Your Highness?” John offers as he passes a bowl down to Martha who thanks him. She and Kal-El are both dressed down and settled in the palace’s theater room. It isn’t until Diana arrives with a handful of drinks that Martha takes the remote. Diana sets the drinks down and plops right next to Kal-El before she ties her hair back.

“Let’s do this,” she says as if they’re about to ride into battle while Kal-El flicks the tab to a soda and gets comfortable next to her as he goes for another bowl of popcorn. Diana has done an amazing job at helping Kal-El since her arrival about a week ago, but what could someone expect from a diplomat’s daughter and Kal-El’s childhood best friend?

“Shall we start?” John asks as Hal dims the lights down.

The big screen flickers to life and Clark chokes at the first slide while Martha gasps at it in shock. _Clark’s Potential Boning Partners_ is displayed in big black font with a couple of select cartoon genitalia on the corners. John curses and moves onto the next slide while Diana starts to laugh while an elbow digs into Kal-El’s side.

“Come on, you have to have the right mindset for this,” she insists as John coughs loudly. There’s a picture of an older man with his name, age, residence, and hobbies listed beside the photograph.

“Baron Dark Seid of Apokolips,” reads John as he leans over the back of theater chairs with his little stack of notes cards while Hal does the same; Hal snatches a handful of popcorn from Diana. “Halfway around the globe from Krypton, for those who don’t know Apokolips.”

“Absolutely not,” Martha replies. “He’s a known hothead, politically volatile, and he comes from a long line of troubled rulers, to say the least.”

John turns to the next slide that makes Diana squeal in delight while Kal-El’s jaw drops open.

“Oh, okay, yes,” Kal-El breathes, looking star struck. “I accept. I absolutely accept his proposal.”

“Prince William, he’s not eligible,” sighs Martha. “He’s in line for his own crown.”

Kal-El deflates with a sad little, “Aw.”

Hal’s face screws up in confusion. “If he’s not eligible for Clark to marry then why is he included in these pictures?”

“I just love to look at him,” Martha explains while Diana hums her agreement.

“Your Majesty,” says John, flabbergasted. Martha waves a hand dismissively.

“We may look at menu, even if we can’t order from it,” she says as sagely as possible. “Next, John, if you please.”

“Midnighter Ellis Hitch of Stormwatch. Noted marksman, plays the piano, no title but from a good family.”

“What about the title of husband?” asks Diana around some popcorn. “He’s cute, right Clark?”

“His boyfriend thinks he’s cute too,” chimes John, perfectly in time. Diana lifts a fist upwards.

“More power to him. Sorry, Clark.”

“Well nevertheless, put him and a plus one on all the invitation lists,” Martha orders. “I’ve heard he’s a lovely dancer.”

The next slides go quickly: too old, too young, too many brushes with the law when Lex Luthor’s slide appears. Kal-El throws some popcorn at the screen with a scowl before it changes. After even more potential suitors go by with various issues Martha hums her disappointment.

“I didn’t think this would be so hard,” she mutters under her breath before speaking plainly as John slowly continues onwards. “We need someone who can help Clark run a country without any hidden agendas getting in the way. Attractive, smart, but not arrogant.” She gets up and slowly paces, regal as ever despite the pink bunny slippers on her feet. “Someone who is compassionate, driven, but with a head on their shoulders.”

“Someone like him?” Kal-El twitters almost nervously.

“Duke Bruce Wayne of Gotham,” Diana repeats with a slight wrinkle in her forehead. The young man in the portrait picture looks about Kal-El’s age, arguably handsome but without a smile on his lips. It’s a face of upmost concentration, but even still he’s quite striking.

“Oh, oh yes.” Martha stops and stares at the slide while Kal-El leans a little more forward. “Someone exactly like him! Good choice Clark, very good. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him before.”

“Because it’s Gotham, Your Highness,” drawls Hal which turns every eye on him. He shrugs in a “that’s just the way it is” manner. “Everyone knows how troubled Gotham is, and what happened to the Waynes.”

“The Waynes?” Kal-El asks.

“Bruce’s parents,” Martha whispers, sounding solemn. “They were killed when Bruce was young. His uncle raised him until Bruce came of age and started putting his title to use about 7 years ago.”

“As to the state of Gotham, it’s troubled yes, but doing better. Everyone credits Bruce’s parents to the start of the turnaround despite having limited power, but Bruce himself is rumored to be the driving force behind most of the good that is going on today,” John advises. He doesn’t turn his head but does direct his gaze to Kal-El who tips his head a bit like a curious bird. Martha slips the notecard from John, reading excitedly.

“Martial arts expert, various degrees in biology and chemistry with some courses in astrophysics, his hobbies include automotive mechanics, swimming, and watching crime dramas.”

“Well that’s a pretty broad spectrum,” comments Diana dryly as she turns to Kal-El who half-hides behind his popcorn bowl. “Clark?”

“He looks…nice. I guess. Yeah, yeah he looks nice.”

“It’s settled then,” Martha announces with a clap. “Let’s see if we can’t set something up soon.”


	2. Engagement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This segment really does take some liberties plot-wise because I didn't have a rival love interest but still needed some conflict. I am very proud of the Batboys and how they fit into this chapter. No worries, the girls make their appearance next week with the conclusion.

Kal-El tries to keep his smile in place and as far from forced as he can when the announcement of Duke Wayne’s arrival rings out. While the garden party is just that, a party, only a few actually know that it’s really being held to get Kal-El and Bruce to meet. There’s wild speculation of course, but no one will actually confirm. All the partygoers go hush at the arrival call and drop their voices before the din ramps up again. Kal-El has only brushed shoulders with a few in his so-called upper societal circle, but he’s never seen a crowd react like this before.

“Come along, Kal,” Martha instructs after she politely excuses Kal-El from his conversation with the King and Queen of Atlantis. She’s been doing very well resisting Kal-El’s preferred name not to insult Kal-El, but rather because he knows only those closest to him will call him Clark. “Bruce is here, and we want a good first impression.”

“I know,” Kal-El replies, thankful for the handkerchief he’s been allowed to keep in a back pocket. The sun isn’t harsh, but it on top of his nerves has got him sweating as he wipes his face clean then stands with his grandmother under a large blue patio umbrella. Attendants fuss with their attire briefly then disappear while Hal and John hover nearby in their most formal black and green uniforms. The party does quiet down a second time just as John murmurs that Duke Wayne with his uncle were reaching the steps that lead down into the gardens.

“Just relax, Kal, deep breath,” Martha encourages as two figures come into sight. “It’ll be fine.”

Kal-El nods a bit and swallows thickly while his palms sweat. He knows that Bruce knows the whole party is just to get the two of them to talk and potentially send them down a whirlwind path to marriage. It’s a business transaction, but only enough if the right boxes get ticked. Martha has made it clear that while Kal-El will need to marry before he can ascend as King of Krypton, it might not be to Duke Wayne.

The two make for quite a pair. Bruce Wayne is tall, broad, and frankly hard to miss. Considering Clark himself knows a thing or two about being the biggest man in the room it’s saying something that Bruce might just have him beat. If his physical figure wasn’t enough, the bright red outfit with black details is more than enough to catch anyone’s eye. Beside him, Kal-El knows, is Bruce’s uncle, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred looks like a slip of a man compared to his nephew, dressed in a dark blue suit. He’s around Martha’s age, and he does look like a grandfather with what white hair he does have left. However he looks pleasant, something about his expression putting Kal-El at ease as they go straight to Martha and Kal-El.

When Bruce introduces himself in perfect Kryptonian then bows low enough to expose the back of his neck with his arms reaching behind with upwards palms Kal-El can’t help but freeze up. It’s his people’s traditional greeting, one that’s fallen out of use for the past century or so. Even Martha seems taken back when Bruce straightens himself back up. His face is a mask, utterly emotionless. Most Kryptonians don’t speak their own dying language, too complex and too underused when it was just easier to rely on English. It’s one of Kal-El’s few advantages- despite being raised in Kansas he is fluent, something he thanks his Ma for.

He hastily returns his end of the greeting, mimics the same position that Bruce just did, then stares at the Duke of Gotham whose face turns into the slightest amused smile. Did Bruce think he wouldn’t be able to complete the greeting? Was this some type of test?

“Duke Wayne, Master Pennyworth, welcome to Krypton,” Martha greets with a curtsy and slight bow of her head.

“You’ll have to forgive an old man for not being able to greet you properly, Your Highness,” Alfred replies merrily as he reaches up for Martha’s hand.

She extends her arm out and Kal-El’s eyes go wide when instead of a kiss Alfred merely curls their fingers in a cup grip then brings her knuckles to his forehead. It seems Bruce isn’t the only Gothamite with a surprisingly intimate knowledge of Kryptonian culture. It’s an even more obscure greeting that is specifically used for lower ranked citizens to greet higher ranked ones, but when the lower ranked citizen was unable to physically bend in the greeting Bruce used. On top of that Alfred has a very distinct accent that Kal-El didn’t expect at all.

When Alfred turns to Kal-El the prince can’t help but smile and gives his hand over for the same treatment. “Prince Kal-El of Krypton, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“And you as well, Master Pennyworth,” Kal-El replies as Alfred’s hand slips away. He turns to gaze to Bruce whose eyebrows lift, almost expectantly. “Duke Wayne, I must admit I’m surprised.”

“Very surprised,” Martha adds, sounding intrigued. “You sound like a native born Kryptonian, something most of my people today cannot claim, and you have the manners like the princes of old.”

Bruce speaks without Alfred’s accent, but sounds pleased with compliment. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He doesn’t elaborate as he none to subtly looks Kal-El up and down then nods his head to one side. “Might we able to walk and talk, Prince Kal-El?”

Kal-El’s stomach twists as he nods. He briefly sees John move out of the corner of his eyes, most likely into the tall hedges. He knows he won’t actually be alone as he leads Bruce away and into the emptier areas of the garden. It’s hard to ignore the whispers and judgmental stares from the other attendees as they pass.

When Kal-El feels like he’s put enough distance away from the party proper, he stops walking and turns to face Bruce.

“Prince Kal-El of Krypton,” Bruce muses, hands in his pockets. “You’re not what I expected.” He looks completely at ease while Kal-El feels wrong-footed and off-kilter.

“No?”

“No.”

They lapse into silence but Kal-El refuses to inquire what Bruce means. He’s been warned that people will try to play games with him, that they will prey on his naivety or earnestness by having him guess what others want. Instead of doing anything he lifts his chin a bit and folds his arms, staring at Bruce who suddenly shifts to copy his pose. It’s like two animals sizing each other up. Kal-El feels the sun against his back and eventually a trickle of sweat traces down his spine. He has no idea how much time passes before Bruce laughs. It’s rather jarring.

“What?”

“You have patience, Prince Kal-El,” Bruce answers, and it sounds like he’s praising Kal-El. “You are the first person in quite a while that didn’t just try to fill the silence.”

“I’ve never had anyone do that to me,” Kal-El replies slowly. “Normally people are eager to get to talking.”

“I’m not like other people.”

Kal-El doesn’t state the obvious that Bruce is far from other people if his first impression to his potential spouse without anyone else present is just stare them down. It’s no Gothamite tradition if Kal-El’s rather extensive lessons were to be believed.

“How do you know Kryptonian?” he asks and he isn’t surprised when Bruce replies in said language.

“ _Studying_.”

“ _It’s not exactly an easy language_ ,” Kal-El says right back without pause.

Bruce grins with a hint of teeth. “ _I like challenges. You have a perfect dialect for someone who grew up in_ Kansas.”

“ _Thank you_.”

Kal-El doesn’t press for anything further. Bruce’s grin softens to a smile and he switches to English. “You’re not what I expected, not at all. I’m hungry; join me for something?”

It feels a bit like whiplash but Kal-El and Bruce walk back to the party. Bruce gets himself a plate of food while Kal-El declines. They sit together under a white tent and spend the next hour or so with an ever-growing line of people who queue up to say hello to them. Kal-El knows it’s important for him to brush shoulders with these people and does his best to look happy and excited all the while trying to remember names. However even his stamina isn’t everlasting and he lets himself drift a bit. His mind goes off, muddling through what he thinks about Bruce, who is related to who, and the odds of him sneaking into the kitchens that night to raid the leftovers.

The stream of thoughts screeches like a stopped record when Bruce suddenly pitches sideways off his chair. He braces one arm down to catch himself, looking dazed before he sinks down those last few inches.

“Bruce!” yelps Kal-El, staining the knees of his pants and he slips down and hefts Bruce’s torso up. Already Bruce is blinking like an owl, clearly puzzled. He fights against Kal-El briefly as security swarms like a hive of angry bees. People get pushed back as a wall of Green Lanterns circle around the pair.

“I’m fine, probably the heat,” Bruce grumbles while Kal-El’s heart lodges in his throat. He accepts what feels like ice wrapped in a linen napkin and holds it to Bruce’s forehead as John tries to get Bruce’s shirt open. Surprisingly Bruce’s hand snaps up and grabs at John’s wrist with alarming speed. John stares at Bruce for a moment before Bruce sinks back down against Kal-El with a weak laugh.

“Sorry, but no one needs to see that. I’m fine, honestly.”

“Bruce!”

Alfred arrives on the scene, takes one look at Bruce, then loses all tension in his shoulders. “Honestly, my boy.”

Bruce chuckles as he sits up with Kal-El’s help. John gets under Bruce’s one arm and gets him to his feet. “Think you can make it inside, sir?”

“I think I can.”

Kal-El watches Bruce get taken away with another Green Lantern on his other side and lets his hands close around air. He sits back down feeling exhausted. When someone presses a cold glass to his hand he doesn’t bother to look and just drinks it down in four big gulps. He listens as Martha arrives and gets updated that Bruce is going inside.

“Well that well went,” she huffs before sighing. “Kal, we will personally see to them in ten minutes or so. Let’s go inside and freshen up.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Kal-El groans. He gives himself a couple more seconds of darkness before blinking and getting up.

One wardrobe change later and the two quietly go into one the darkened sitting rooms of the palace. The air is particularly cool and feels like heaven against Kal-El’s still heated skin as he spies Bruce laid out on the couch with a number of people milling about the room. Alfred is sitting by Bruce’s hip with what looks like a damp washcloth, pressing it around Bruce’s throat then lower where it seems the duke has relented a few shirt buttons.

“Your Majesties,” Alfred says with a start when he takes notice of them but Martha holds up a hand and shakes his head.

“Please, stay seated. Duke Wayne, how are you feeling? You gave us quite the scare.”

“Fine,” replies Bruce, hands folded over his stomach. His feet are bare and set atop a small mound of pillows. “Unfortunately Alfred is a mother hen and refuses to let me up.”

“This mother hen is why you’ve lived this long,” Alfred whispers, but not quietly enough. Kal-El can’t help but snort a bit which makes him put a hand over his mouth as he tries to hide his grin.

“Sorry.”

* * *

Another month goes by filled with handwritten letters, e-mails, and even a few video chats. While Kal-El tries to hide it, it’s clear he’s smitten with the Duke of Gotham. Bruce has more sides to him than a Rubix cube has options. Out in the public eye Bruce is nothing but the perfect gentleman, bordering on the edge of cold and calculating when he’s pulled into politics.

At a public hearing to discuss the country’s public works budget that gets broadcasted to a number of networks he’s downright vicious. Clark almost feels bad for the poor politicians and cabinet members when Bruce tears down their suggestions which focus on keeping the money in the upper rings instead of down to the people. Of course Clark doesn’t actually feel bad, not when he’s too busy trying to keep from blushing and controlling the butterflies in his stomach as the video follows Bruce who moves across the meeting hall and back to his seat looking unruffled. He folds his hands in front of himself on the table and stares right across at the people he’s just verbally crucified.

“He is a fighter,” Diana states, sounding a bit awed.

“He would compliment you nicely, Kal,” Martha adds, three of them huddled together on a couch with notebooks and snacks. “The fire to your water, if you will.”

Kal-El shrugs a bit because he can’t disagree. He doesn’t like conflict and always wants to make peace. It just isn’t in his nature to do what Bruce just did, not with such hostility.

“Speaking of compliments, perhaps it’s time we have the duke over again?” asks Martha, eying Kal-El who curls up around a pillow.

“Is it too soon though?”

“Everyone’s been buzzing since the garden party, and we can only fend off your other suitors with vague excuses for so long,” Diana explains. The House of El has been wonderfully tight lipped about the pair for weeks, leaving others to wonder why their proposals for Kal-El’s hand in marriage were left mostly unanswered. “Besides, I think he really wants to see you again.”

That makes Kal-El bury his face into the pillow with a grin that threatens to break his face. While he is obviously smitten it’s also clear that Bruce has feelings for Kal-El too. He was perhaps less obvious, never stuttering over his words when they chatted in private or turning various shades of red like Kal-El would do, but his actions showed he wasn’t just in it because of duty. His letters to Kal-El always came in two- one that would be read for the select public in the House of El as part of their courtship, and another just for Kal-El not meant for anyone else’s eyes. That letter always came with a pressed flower and scent that Kal-El had learned was Martha Wayne’s favorite perfume.

“Let’s have him over then,” Kal-El hums into the pillow, feeling giddy. “Maybe we can make some type of announcement at the end.”

* * *

Though there’s no formal announcement it’s clear Gotham is determined to get Duke Wayne married off to Prince Kal-El, or at least keep him alive long to see a wedding date. The next time Bruce arrives he’s joined with a new security detail consisting of not one, not two, but five uniformed men. Kal-El doesn’t know what to make of the uniforms consisting of red, green, yellow, and black with some type of “R” patch over their hearts except any plans of sneaking Bruce away for some actually private conversations were going to be exceptionally harder.

“Robin Security,” John murmurs to Kal-El as four fan out into the gardens while one hangs back and gives Bruce some space. “Don’t let any young faces fool you and don’t tell anyone I told you this, but if something bad happens and you’re with Bruce, get to one of his Robins.”

“I think I’ll stick with my Green Lanterns,” Kal-El whispers back with a grin.

“No, I’m serious.” 

Kal-El turns his head just a bit as John leans closer with a serious look. “Green Lanterns are good and we’re the best in neutralizing from a distance. Robins are notorious for close combat skills. If something happens and there isn’t a Lantern in sight, find a Robin.”

Kal-El swallows and nods, but any anxiety over a security breach fades away in proximity to how close Bruce gets.

“Hello, Kal,” Bruce greets softly as he reaches out with a standard bow. Kal-El offers his hand as his pulse starts to race; he stiffens up as Bruce flips his hand to ghost a kiss over the sensitive skin of his wrist before letting go. It happens so fast Kal-El thinks for a moment he might have imagined it, but Bruce winks as he clasps his hands behind his back then leans his head over one shoulder as his gaze shifts.

“Mr. Stewart, before I get drawn into niceties and mostly Kal-El , I’d like you to meet my head of my security team. Behind me is Dick Grayson; the rest of his team is doing a perimeter check. Or something.”

Kal-El gets distracted as something bright breaches the top of a hedge and finds one of the Robins half-poking out of it. “Um, your security is in the bushes?”

More than a few people have stopped to stare as the Robin gets the rest of the way out then apparently gets comfortable. From the distance he looks very small, no more than a boy.

“That would be Damian,” Bruce says with semi-pursed lips. “He’s…new.”

“Right.” Kal-El blinks and looks away, especially when he thinks he sees a sword strapped to Damian’s back. “Duke Wayne, care to mingle?”

“If I must share you, so be it,” replies Bruce with a slight purr that makes John pointedly stare at the younger man who takes Kal-El’s arm and fairly sweeps him away. When he sees Hal give the signal he has Kal-El in his sights he makes his way over to Dick Grayson.

Dick looks young and has a surprisingly bright, bubbly personality as he untucks a tablet from his lower back and holds it out to John for inspection.

“We won’t be in your hair too much, we tend to stick to the shadows,” Dick explains happily as John looks over the four other pictures to the rest of the Robins: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, and Damian Al Ghul. He stares at their pictures then asks Dick to send him them so the rest of the palace can tag them as friendly faces.

“Will do,” Dick chimes back as he slips the tablet back then salutes with two fingers as a shriek briefly distracts John. There’s a lady holding her hands up with the front of her dress soaked as a man nearby starts to apologize with an empty glass.

“Thanks, Dick, I –” But when John turns back Dick is gone, and no where in sight. He bites his lip then reaches for his earpiece. “GL1 to frequency, keep an eye on out Duke Wayne’s Robins.”

“Feelings mutual,” comes an unfamiliar, somewhat smug voice over the comms, and before anyone can panic the voice continues. “Tim Drake here, codename Robin 3. I’ve tapped your security feeds, hope you don’t mind. I figured since we’d be hanging around with you we could share.”

John bites his lip harder and ponders an early retirement. Robins are good at their jobs, very good, but there’s a reason that few places outside Gotham use them: they are certainly an acquired taste.

* * *

Bruce finishes his glass of water then sets the crystal down onto the table. He looks around lazily, slowly gets up and goes over to Jason while Kal-El watches, absently twirling the rest of his apple juice around the bottom of his cup. The Robins have switched who actually stays near Bruce and so far Kal-El likes Jason the least. The man hasn’t done anything wrong, not in the least, but he hasn’t said a single word to anyone. He’s been utterly silent and something about his eyes makes Kal-El feel exposed and vulnerable. They’re haunted eyes, and Kal-El wonders if Jason used to be some sort of military. He certainly seems to hold himself like a soldier. Despite the full-body uniform it was hard to miss the scars over his hands when he did remove his gloves and the violent looking dark line over his throat that would peek out.

“Jason, why don’t you take a walk?” Bruce suggests lowly as he puts a hand onto Jason’s shoulder. “I want to have a word with Kal, privately. We won’t go far.”

Jason doesn’t say a word as he stares at Bruce with a blank expression.

“Please.”

Jason brightens just a bit then dips his chin and moves off. Bruce then goes to Kal-El and drops over to whisper right by his ear as a hand gently touches between his shoulder blades

“Fancy a walk? I promise we won’t have any nosey birds nearby.”

Kal-El knocks his knees against the table in his haste. He’s been waiting all day for an opportunity to get Bruce alone and it’s finally here. It’s their time to actually talk to one another, to finally get that connection that they can’t get through letters or videos.

“Sure, hang on.” Kal-El almost trips as he goes to Hal, nearly loses his straw hat when a breeze blows, and does actually lose his footing a bit over a stone slab. Hal catches him and helps him up.

“Big Blue, what can I do for you?” asks Hal as Kal-El takes a few breaths.

“I need the Lanterns to back off,” he croaks. “Please. I’m begging you. Bruce just told off his Robins and I don’t know when I’ll get another chance with him without worrying about who might be listening in.”

Hal stares for a bit then nods. “Go get him, tiger.” He opens his comm. “GL2 calling in; let’s take a walk, ladies and gents, Nightwing needs to stretch his wings.”

“Thank you, Hal, thank you.”

No one hurries or draws attention to themselves. It’s a slow dance for Kal-El and Bruce to get together then amble around the hedges while the Green Lanterns turn a blind eye. The sound of the party fades the farther they go but Bruce does brush up against Clark’s side a few times.

“So, Prince Kal-El,” begins Bruce easily, stones crinkling under their shoes.

“You can call me Kal,” Kal-El blurts, telling himself to calm down. They’re just talking, without any sort of barriers or spies. There’s no need to panic.

“Kal,” Bruce tries as he steps closer to Kal-El and slowly runs a hand over his back to hook a hand onto his ribs. It’s done with enough warning and time that Kal-El could step away if he wanted. It’s a gentle hold, modestly high in case there were prying eyes but low enough to suggest more than just friendship. “Are you okay with this, Kal?”

“Very.”

“Good,” hums Bruce as his fingers dance down a few inches, closer to Kal-El’s hip. “I won’t lie, I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for a while, Kal. I hope you don’t find that too…crass.”

“I…no, no it’s fine. It’s fine.” There’s not hot summer sun to blame between the hat and shadows when Kal-El’s face heats up as he awkwardly twines his fingers together to give them something to do. They turn another corner where the hedges open up to a bubbling, grey stone fountain with a number of dolphins featuring in the design.

“I’m glad I finally have you alone, too. It’s so hard to keep up the title mask sometimes, wouldn’t you agree?” asks Bruce as he walks them around the circular edge of the fountain before stopping. A couple droplets from the dolphin spouts get blown onto their arms. “It’s nice to just…relax.”

“Um, yes,” Kal-El whispers as Bruce’s arm relaxes just enough until they’re facing one another. Bruce is just the slightest bit taller than Kal-El, but Kal-El is slightly wider across the shoulders.

There’s no warning when Bruce’s arm curl around him before he ducks under that hat to press their mouths together. It takes a moment for Kal-El to register that he’s being kissed before he melts. He’s only had one girlfriend in middle school and back then they were too shy to do more than just hold hands. He’s never been kissed, especially not like this when Bruce pushes a little harder and tilts his head to one side. One of Bruce’s hands slides down below Kal-El’s waistline along his back as one of Kal-El’s feet pops up just enough until just the tip of his shoe rests on the stone. His hands grabbing at Bruce’s side tense up when Bruce bites against his top lip and pulls his body closer, rubbing just a bit below the belt.

That gets Kal-El to jolt. He blinks then starts to panic. He tries to lean back but Bruce just follows him with a little chuckle. Only when Kal-El gets his hands up and between their bodies to push at Bruce’s shoulders does that get actual space between them.

“What, what are you doing?” hisses Kal-El as Bruce just grins at him with sparkling eyes.

“Getting my hands on you,” he says simply. “Did I know make that clear before?” He ducks back for another kiss but Kal-El yelps and tries to take a step back.

“Stop!”

“Shy, aren’t you? That’s alright, I can work with shy.” Bruce sounds absolutely wicked as Kal-El arches further away, only Bruce’s arms at his waist keep him in place.

“We can’t…Bruce, no!”

“We can’t what?” Bruce hums. “We finally get to be alone, what did you think we’d be doing?”

“Talking!” snaps Kal-El as he bats at Bruce’s arm and breaks the hold. He reaches to his mouth then throws his hand down feeling betrayed. “You can’t just go around kissing anyone!”

For once Bruce looks baffled, like Kal-El’s behavior doesn’t compute with his plans. “I’m not kissing just anyone.”

“But you can’t!”

“Why not? Physical intimacy is an important component in any relationship,” asks Bruce slowly, advancing on Kal-El who quickly steps away then starts to nervously pace.

“I know you, Bruce, but not well enough to do that! I wanted to talk with you, to get to know you better.”

“That’ll come with time, Kal. We’ll communicate more, talk daily if you think we can find the time, but how to you propose we get to know each other better like lovers? You know how hard it was just to get security to give a few minutes alone, and I don’t intend to waste too much time with just talk.”

There’s something in Bruce’s tone that makes Kal-El think the other man wants nothing except a warm body until he realizes it’s more than just that. He’s been so dumb, too smitten.

“You just want me so you can get to the crown,” he hisses, rounding on Bruce. “You’re juat a duke of Gotham, you could be a prince of Krypton!”

“Please, like I have any interest in upping my title,” snorts Bruce as he gets an arm back around Kal-El. “It’s a nice perk, but I don’t quite think you grasp Gotham politics as well as you hope. Not even a prince of Krypton could win more much more favor in certain circles. It’ll be nice, sure, but I’m doing this for you, Kal. You’re the one who needs me.”

Kal-E squirms. “I don’t just need you! You’re…you’re confused!”

“Confused? Who’s confused? It was just a kiss, Kal. A pretty good one, at that, might I add.”

Bruce starts to lean in, Kal-El tries to escape, and both end up pitching over into the fountain with a splash. Kal-El surfaces first with a gasp and slaps at the water in Bruce’s direction when the duke sits up.

“Don’t follow me,” Kal-El growls as he gets to his feet then grabs at his sodden hat. He slaps it onto his head then slowly exits the fountain with as much dignity as he can muster.

“Kal, wait,” croaks Bruce, watching as the prince gets onto dry land with a well-bred sniff before walking off with his head held high and back ramrod straight. A wet trail follows him even as he finds Martha. Only then does he let his head drop while the queen stares then neatly clasps her hands as she leans over.

“Do I want to know?” she asks quietly.

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m going to get changed, Grandmother.”


	3. Engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, where I could not be bothered to explain in any detail how certain events came to pass. And self-indulgent SuperBat fluff at the very end.

It is no small feat and takes no small amount of meddling until Bruce and Kal-El make amends. They do make up, make their peace, and make an announcement of their intent to marry. With Kal-El officially off the eligible bachelor list the requests to court him cease and instead get replaced with well wishes and an alarming amount of fruit baskets.

“I’m not even that fond of pears, honestly,” Bruce mutters as Kal-El takes the largest one from the basket then sends the rest to be shared among the staff. “What is it with all the pears?”

“Kryptonian specialty,” answers Kal-El as he takes a bite then offers the pear to Bruce who glares at the fruit. “Come on, just a bite. We don’t need you passing out during the parade.”

“Again, I faked that,” hums Bruce as he grasps Kal-El’s wrist to lean over and take a bite of the pear. He wipes his mouth as he settles back as Kal-El goes to finish it off. “You were lovely, but I couldn’t stand anyone else any longer.”

Kal-El laughs a bit and goes around to stand behind Bruce. It’s more a relief than he anticipated as he stoops down, hugs Bruce, and rests their cheeks together briefly. Despite their disastrous first kiss things have been much better on that front, and with their wedding looming ahead they’re free to be openly affectionate with one another. In any public appearance they make they’re encouraged hold hands or given carefully crafted moments for a quick peck to show the world what a happy couple they are. Some days are harder than others, to perform like trained monkeys as Bruce would say, but their feelings aren’t fake.

“Is Metropolis going to be with us?” Bruce asks as Kal-El draws away, bare feet quiet on the floor. He’s still in pajamas while Bruce is dressed casually, a price to pay because he can’t go gallivanting around the palace without being dressed. Kal-El isn’t allowed to either, but so long as he isn’t going too far from his bedroom, a thick robe suffices.

“I put in a special request for her.”

“You’re the best, Clark.”

There’s a knock on the door and Bruce’s Robin, Duke, pokes his head in slowly. On occasion the two have been caught being a little more amorous than anyone would like, and it only took one time to permanently scar Duke.

“Good morning Your Highnesses,” he greets with a slight incline of his head.

“Hello, Duke, good morning,” hums Kal-El and he sorts through some mail on the table.

“Hate to break you two up, but I need Duke Wayne to get ready for the parade, and I think I saw Diana on her way to fetch you, Your Majesty.”

Bruce rolls his eyes and groans. “Shoot me.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun, Bruce. You’ve never been in a Kryptonian parade before, they’re nice, very relaxing.”

“I get to sit and wave until I can’t feel my face. Joy.”

The annual parade gathers Kryptonians from all around the country and has everything everyone would expect. The parade route winds through a nearby, small, rather picturesque town, and Bruce and Kal-El will be the center of attention in an open-air carriage pulled by Metropolis. Their outfits are both carefully picked to pay homage to their countries: Bruce in all black with and his country’s bat symbol across his chest, and Kal-El in blue with his family’s red and yellow house crest. Despite their protests both are told that capes are absolutely “in” this season and they’re lucky they only have to deal with fabric that barely makes it to their waists. Not real capes, they are told, but half-capes.

“I feel like a show dog,” Bruce huffs as he pulls at his black cape and tries to get comfortable in the carriage while Kal-El adjusts his own red cape that wraps around only the left side of his body and leaves his right arm free. Unlike Bruce, Kal-El also has a silver circlet that glints under the sun.

“You look handsome,” coos Dick as he gets onto the back of the carriage behind Bruce while Hal does the same behind Kal-El.

“I like your capes,” offers Hal, laughing out loud as Bruce looks around then gives Hal two middle fingers before Kal-El slaps them down.

“Children,” he says warningly, “Behave.”

“But he started it,” whines Bruce, tugging on Kal-El’s right sleeve with a big grin that shows he’s only playing. For as serious as Bruce can be he definitely has a mischievous streak that seems to come out more.

“And I’ll finish it,” replies Kal-El as he looks at Dick who mimes zipping his lips.

The last preparations get made, gear to the carriage gets double checked, and then they’re off. As expected Bruce and Kal-El wave and smile to the crowds that have turned out, and Kal-El makes a game of trying to figure out which Robin is which as four figures leap across the rooftops nearby in absolutely terrifying feats of strength and agility. At some point Dick and Hal must agree that they’re ok to put more space between them and their charges and silently slip off the back of the carriage to follow by foot. It’s a sedate pace, more like a languid stroll.

Everything goes well until Kal-El spots a group of children in uniforms. There’s three girls, blonde, red, and black haired, all wearing what look like red plastic crowns. The red-haired girl, the tallest, looks protective with her arm around the shoulders of the other two. The blonde flinches when a boy behind them waves a flag in her face while another girl behind them takes the crown off the black-haired girl’s head. The red head spins around and swats the crown taker before plucking off her own to give to the black-haired girl. The black haired girl smiles then cries out when that crown gets taken away. Kal-El watches the whole interaction as they pass by then pushes himself upwards.

“Stop the carriage,” he says without really thinking. Bruce grabs his arm and looks around.

“Clark, what’s wrong?” he demands as Dick springs onto the back of the carriage and crouches, one arm back with a glint of black steel between his fingers while Hal goes around to the little carriage opening.

“Just wait here,” Kal-El murmurs, eyes never leaving the children and three girls. He climbs out of the carriage and shakes his head at Hal before putting on his best media smile. He waves a bit more as he approaches the group of children, ignoring the concerns from other bystanders that he’s just stopped the parade.

“Hello everyone,” he calls as he makes it over, getting a chorused “hi, Prince Kal-El” in return. He crouches down in front of the three girls while the man near them look torn between surprise and passing out.

“Hi, what are your names?” he asks sweetly as the black haired girl turns partially in the red head.

“Barbara,” says the red head quietly, “And Stephanie, and Cass.”

“Those are pretty names,” replies Kal-El before standing up and towering over not only them but the children behind them. He folds his arms and lifts an eyebrow. “And your names.”

There’s a mess of names and Kal-El nods a bit as he tries to remember all the times he got on his Ma’s bad side and how just her expression could put the fear of Rao into him. “I didn’t see you teasing these young ladies here, did I?”

“They were taking our crowns and poking us,” Stephanie grouses as Kal-El continues to stare beyond the trio. That sends those children to scamper off. The prince never sees Bruce get up and jump out the carriage, cape fluttering. Bruce lands without a sound and makes a straight line over to his fiancé as Kal-El looks at the man who must be some sort of guardian.

“Excuse me, these children are…?” he starts, leaving his question clear.

“Your Highness,” stutters the man, bowing just a bit. “Most of them are uh, orphans, we try to care for as many as we can.”

Kal-El nods his head then goes back in front of the three girls as Bruce touches his shoulder. “Kal?”

Kal-El touches Bruce’s hand and squeezes the duke’s fingers briefly before shifting his attention back to the girls. The girls look entranced by Bruce, or maybe terrified; Stephanie’s mouth actually pops open as her head cranes back and back. A quick tug on Bruce’s hand gets him to kneel down and drastically reduce his somewhat frightening appearance and equally intimidating height.

“Stephanie, Barbara, Cass, how would you girls like to be princesses for a day?” asks Kal-El, looking between the three.

“We can’t,” pouts Barbara. “We’re too tiny, not special enough.”

“You can’t be a princess if you think like that,” murmurs Kal-El as Bruce sharply looks sideways. Jason’s descended from the rooftops with his hands on the holsters on his thighs. “Anyone can be a princess today, because I declare it. You just need…” Kal-El looks around and finds a woman with a variety of plastic crowns and flags and other types of little costume pieces and toys in a basket. He grins.

“You just need a crown. Would you like to march and wave in the parade with me?” He stands back up as he motions to the woman with the basket and looks around at the other children. “Why don’t all of you wear some crowns and march in the parade?”

“All of them?” asks the woman sounding horrified.

“I’ll take care of it later, I-”

“I’ll take care of it later,” says Bruce lowly, taking Kal-El’s one hand as he reaches out with the other. He picks up a big gold crown and offers it to Barbara while the other children start to giggle and coo with excitement as the woman holds the basket down. There’s request for certain colors or types of props as Barbara affixes the crown on her head while Kal-El gets a purple one for Stephanie and Bruce takes a silver one for Cass. The girls smile at him, and Cass, the apparent youngest, pokes at Bruce’s symbol.

“Bat?” she asks.

“Bat,” confirms Bruce. He taps her nose with his finger and gets a giggle. His serious face breaks as he slowly tugs Kal-El out from the wave of children. When a boy’s voice asks if he can be in the parade too, Bruce nods and lifts Kal-El’s hand up.

“The world could always use more princes,” he replies, kissing Kal-El’s hand without ever breaking eye contact with Kal-El. Once all the children are decorated Bruce steps backwards as Kal-El inhales.

“Okay then, so,” he starts, sounding somewhat uneasy. “To be a prince, or princess, you have to believe it.”

“You have to walk the way you think a prince or princess should walk, so think tall, smile, and wave,” continues Bruce, and immediately all the children overcompensate with thinking tall. “You have to be able to breathe, though.” A few children deflate back to more normal proportions.

“And remember to have fun,” adds Kal-El, turning himself around with Bruce who laces their fingers together. A quick look over his shoulder shows Stephanie, Barbara and Cass looking at him expectantly. He then looks over at Martha and their parade master. “Can we get a drumroll, please?”

There’s a call for a drumroll then the parade slowly starts back up. Hal gets onto the back of the now empty carriage while Dick remains perched on top of it. The carriage rolls slowly as Bruce and Kal-El start to walk.

“You have to believe you’re a princess,” Bruce tells the three girls. It takes a bit longer until they relax then get into it with genuine smiles and enthusiast waves. Jason follows behind the children like a guard, hands easing off his weapons after a bit.

The broadcasts announce it’s the best parade Kyrpton has ever seen.

* * *

“Bruce no, this is such a bad idea,” Kal-El snickers as Bruce pours out the bottle of wine into two of the biggest glasses Kal-El has ever seen in his life. He’s pretty sure he’s seen fishbowls smaller than these glasses. He’s already a little buzzed between the drinks at dinner and dessert and had planned on sleeping away the night now that his duties were done. Instead he’s down in the kitchen at nearly 2 in the morning with Bruce telling him it’s time to relax and let loose.

“Clark, come on, this is a great idea,” hums Bruce as he looks at the wine bottle, gives it a little shake, then sticks the end into his mouth. He bends back and finishes what’s left as Kal-El puts his hands over his face.

“Bruce, no,” he giggles until Bruce stands and gets rid of the empty bottle.

“Bruce, yes. Come on, Big Blue, live a little. Think of this as one of your last rebellions as an unwed man.”

They end up on the back patio on the wooden swinging bench. Luckily for their coordination the bench doesn’t swing much at all, and all Bruce has to do is keep one foot on the ground to give them a little rocking motion. While he rests flat on his back Kal-El rests facedown on Bruce’s chest, carefully fitted between Bruce’s legs. The night is mild and slightly sticky as they sip at their wine.

“So, Clark.”

“Mhm.”

“We are getting married in less than a month.”

“Yup.” The wine has loosened Kal-El’s tongue, and also has taken away any semblance of grace.

“You excited?”

Kal-El gives a single laugh and looks out into the darkness before raising his voice. “I’m excited for when I can sleep with my husband and not have any damn shadows prowling about.”

“Hey, fuck off!” comes Jason’s voice from the shadows which makes the two on the bench snort with laughter. “I did not sign up to be the chastity police!”

“Yes, you did!” rebukes Hal’s voice which makes Kal-El break into peals of laughter until he can’t even move. He does shift a bit when one hand worms under his shirt and covers his lower back. He nuzzles against Bruce’s neck and reaches up blindly to play with Bruce’s hair.

“We’re gonna be married,” he slurs. “You’re gonna be my husband.”

“Yup.”

Bruce sits up just enough to down the rest of his wine and pointedly ignores the soft voice of Tim who says he’s going to regret that. Instead he just wraps himself around Kal-El as best he can and forgets about the rest of the world. The hands in his hair eventually sink down to hold his face and he doesn’t have to move an inch when Kal-El shuffles up and elbows him only once in the stomach before kissing him. It’s a little sloppy because neither of them are sober enough to keep just their mouth together, but it still feels amazing. Only when Bruce starts to reach down between their bodies to fumble at Kal-El’s pants does he get reminded that they’re not alone when there’s a loud series of pointed coughs.

“Nobody asked you,” Kal-El groans as Bruce unhappily takes his hand back and puts it where Jason and whoever else can see it. Eventually they drift off under the stars, and not even Tim draping a lightweight blanket over their bodies rouses them.

When Bruce wakes up it’s with a slight headache and dry, sour mouth. He has to swallow a few times before he feels safe enough to breathe deeper. He pushes up onto one elbow and that wakes up Kal-El who snorts a bit and looks around with half-lidded eyes from his spot on Bruce’s chest.

“I’m not sleeping,” he drawls as Bruce hums fondly and guides him back down. There’s a blanket of some kind twisted up around their hips, and they’re still dressed in their clothes from yesterday.

“I think we stayed out all night,” Bruce murmurs as he relaxes back down onto the bench. He grunts as Kal-El yelps and tumbles off the bench onto the ground. The prince looks alarmed, startled even.

“We stayed out all night,” he gasps.

“Go us,” yawns Bruce as he sits up and reaches above his head. His hands lace as he stretches while Kal-El continues to panic.

“We stayed out. All night.”

“We got drunk too, which I think is why we never made it back inside,” Bruce adds as he swats aside the blanket then settles his feet down. His back feels extremely sore now that he’s started moving.


End file.
